Cecily Grows Up
by r6144
Summary: A sequel to LMM's The Story Girl and The Golden Road. Cecily King is now fifteen and about to enter Queen's, where she will meet some worthy people and learn many valuable life lessons.
1. The Pass List Is Out

It was a beautiful summer day in Carlisle. In the old King homestead, Cecily was shelling peas, Dan was doing some carpenter work, Alec King was comfortably rocking in his chair, reading a newspaper, and Janet, his wife, was running around doing some drudgery. Mother is always so busy, running around day and night, thought Cecily.

Cecily, the younger sister of Dan and Felicity, was fifteen now. A few weeks ago she had taken the entrance exam of Queen's, and now all there were left to do was the unenviable business of waiting. She tried all she could to distract herself from the exam, but one could not expect other people never to mention anything that might remind her of it, especially mischievous Dan. And now he was going _again_.

"Now, Sis, stop acting so worried. Everyone knows you can no doubt pass. Why, Mr. Perkins said that you might even get into the top ten."

"_Please_, don't mention the exam again! It's good of you to try to comfort me, but I _am_ worried. What a disgrace it will be if I don't pass!" said Cecily, her small face pale with anxiety.

"You must be joking." teased Dan.

Though everyone knew that Cecily was definitely _not_ joking. Both of the King girls inherited much from their mother, but while Felicity got her cooking skills, Cecily was Janet's child for her seriousness and dislike of "nonsense", and grew more and more so as she entered her teenage years. It may be hard to imagine how a girl who rarely even smiled could be regarded as "sweet", and loved by almost everyone around her, but this was a _fact_. Maybe the Story Girl's prophecies, in a night so long ago, played some role in this.

Yet Cecily did not really need to worry so much, for she had always been a good pupil at the Carlisle school. Besides—

"The mailman is coming!" shouted Dan.

Cecily snatched the newspaper from Dan as he walked back in with it, and ran into her room. Is the pass list there? Oh, yes! But... Half a minute passed before Cecily with her crazily beating heart finally located her name in the list. She had got the ninth place in the Island—out of hundreds!

Dan had expected wild rapture or—god forbid—bitter tears from his little sister. But the girl walking out of her room was neither. There was just a faint, relieved smile appearing on her face.

* * *

The summer passed quickly, and now it was time for Cecily to leave for Queen's. It was the first time that Cecily had ever been away from home for more than two days, and she was feeling quite anxious. Would anything go wrong? Would the people there like her? How would she endure living in such a new place with so many unfamiliar faces? During the whole summer these problems had not meant much for Cecily, and she was just happy that she had passed. But now, she began to find it so hard to leave her lovely birthplace, her home folks, and most of her friends. 

"At least Willy is also going to Queen's." Cecily thought. In the years gone by, Willy Fraser had become the boy Cecily liked most, and she no longer tried to deny things when other pupils put their names together on a "Take Notice". She was not "madly in love" with him, as certain other "pairs" in the school seemed to be. "But I think that's sheer nonsense." she said to herself. Anyway, she somehow felt that she belonged to him already, even though what that exactly meant, she had yet to know.

Cecily had wanted to do the packing herself, but before she realized it Mother and Felicity had already done most of the work for her. Clothes, books, money, various small gadgets, all done. Cecily searched all over her brain for something they might have missed—maybe something that could help her when she was homesick.

She found one thing—her dream book, recording her gory dreams dreamt so long ago. And that reminded her of another thing. Didn't she help to produce a _magazine_ with her cousins three years ago? Yes, _Our Magazine_. She would ask Felicity if she would let her take it to Queen's. Cecily usually found it very hard to ask for favors from other people, even her own parents, brother and sister, but this time she didn't hesitate.

* * *

Finally it was the day to leave, and in the morning Cecily put on the new travel suit that Janet had made for her. She looked at herself in the mirror— 

The girl in the mirror, dressed in her very first travel suit, looked awkward and unfamiliar. And impossibly grown up—_Grown up_. Cecily hated these words. While other girls of her age, Felicity in particular, just yearned to be grown up and dressed themselves accordingly as long as their parents permitted, for Cecily being "grown up" meant that the beautiful, carefree childhood had forever left her. Left forever—_never_ would come back—how terrible! She wished she could always remain a little girl, and looking at herself in the mirror, it suddenly dawned on her that her wish would never be granted. Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes. Cecily hastily tried to wipe them out. It won't do to cry, now.

Then there was the breakfast, the good-byes and the train ride to Charlottetown. Cecily did these all in a daze, forgetting most of Janet's admonitions. Maybe she even forgot to say goodbye. Her first train ride was not a comfortable one because of her anxiety; during the journey she just mechanically checked the paperwork and her wallet over and over again, mighty afraid of losing something. Before she knew it, she found herself in Charlottetown, right at the gate of Queen's Academy.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: I have outlined my plans on my profile page. I had wanted to post the story after it gets finished, but somehow the temptation is just too much to resist :) English is not my native tongue, and since the main purpose of this story is to let out my feelings, I have not done much research when writing it either. So forgive me if the language is poor, the story makes no sense, and/or it makes historians cry. Read & review, please:) 


	2. First Impressions

"What a mess!" sighed Cecily as she headed towards her boarding house on the evening of her first day of school. She had spent the whole afternoon in a crowded and noisy hall at Queen's, completing various procedures of admission and filling out a whole lot of paperwork, and now she was finally a bona fide Queen's girl. In her inexperienced life, Cecily had never handled so many forms or such a large sum of money, and the nagging feeling of having lost something, which started as soon as she left home, was still troubling her. Thankfully, nothing seemed to have gone wrong—_yet_.

The boarding house was owned by a certain Mrs. Campbell, a friend of Sara Ray's mother. She was to board with two other girls, also studying at Queen's, and these were all Mrs. Ray had told her. Cecily did not like the thought of living in a boarding house. She had never seen one, but intuitively she thought it would be a crowded, smelly and dingy place, with strange and often unemployed people living in it, and she imagined the landlady to be some cranky old woman who would bitterly complain whenever you do anything slightly differently from her expectations. So her hand trembled as she rang the doorbell, when a tall and pleasant-looking girl, about her own age, answered.

"Oh, you must be Cecily King! Come with me!" said the girl warmly.

Cecily felt relieved as she nodded, but she was too surprised to say anything. Who is this girl? The landlady's daughter? But does she have a daughter? Or maybe another boarder like her? But she surely doesn't _act_ like a boarder! How does she know her? And where is Mrs. Campbell? Cecily had tons of questions she wanted to ask, but no word came out of her mouth, and instead she just stared as the girl hustled here and there and brought her into a room with plenty of pictures and various ornaments—until she remembered that staring was very impolite.

Then the fascinating girl gave her a piece of candy and said smilingly, "Tongue-tied? Oh, you must be finding this room rather strange, right?"

"No, not at all...but..."

Cecily had want to ask who the girl was, but she could not find a polite way to do it. The girl described every picture in her room to awe-struck Cecily, but finally she seemed to understand the questioning face before her.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mary Robinson."

Robinson? Then she couldn't be Mrs. Campbell's daughter. Cecily gathered some courage. "Are you err... studying at Queen's?"

"Of course! I'm also boarding here, you know. What did you think?" said amused Mary.

"I thought you must be related to the owner of this house... Mrs. Campbell?"

Mary laughed heartily. Cecily had not met any girl who could laugh as heartily as Mary could—not even the Story Girl, and the laughter comforted her greatly.

"Oh, Mrs. Campbell is out visiting some relatives. She will be back the day after tomorrow."

Cecily looked at her with admiration. So Mrs. Campbell had left the house in her charge? She had not supposed that a boarder could do _that_.

"I think there is another girl boarding here, right?"

"Yes, she's called Molly... Molly Bryant."

* * *

With a satisfied yawn Cecily unpacked her last bag. When Mary pointed her to the little room that was to be hers, it had seemed a strange place, even though it was neat, not a bit as dingy as she had imagined. But when everything were in their places it began to look livable—actually quite homey. She also remembered the supper she and Mary cooked together with a smile. For all the charm Mary had, her cooking skills were worse than the Story Girl's, and Cecily was glad she could finally be of some help. Even though Cecily appreciated Mary's warm welcome, she could not be totally comfortable without having a share of the work that she could do. 

And at that moment another girl came. It was Molly. With a rather pudgy figure and a pair of glasses, she did not look very bright or very pretty.

"But I do think we can get along really well." thought Cecily after their brief introduction.

When the clock struck ten Cecily said her prayer and snuggled into her bed. It was comfortable. Why, it's just as comfortable as the bed at home—_almost_, she added hurriedly. Surely it wouldn't do if she thought a mere boarding house as good as her home! But the reality was that Cecily did not feel terribly homesick, at least on that first day. The beautiful campus of Queen's, the nice boarding house, Mary's warm welcome—it had been a good day, after all. Even the messy afternoon looked better now, since nothing had gone wrong. With such pleasant thoughts she soon drifted into sleep.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you all for your kind reviews! 


	3. That Charming Face

On the next morning Cecily saw her classmates for the first time. The first lecture was about the school rules and an introduction to the courses they are going to take. Cecily could not help getting a little nervous when listening to the severe-looking professor. So many courses! What would happen if she didn't learn one of them well and failed in the exam? Or worse, if she overslept on the examination day and totally missed it? She would have to redo the whole year, according to the rule. In fact, Cecily had no need to worry that much, but to be fair she was not the only student scared by the professor's severe tone.

And that she did not know anyone in her class apart from her roommates—Willy was in another class—had not helped matters any. During the class break Cecily desperately wanted to talk to someone, but Molly was dozing on the desk and Mary was busy talking with a young man, so after a minute of wistful searching, her eyes returned to the school rules written on the blackboard, and she frowned thoughtfully without actually thinking of anything.

When the bell rang Mary and the young man returned to their respective seats, and Cecily caught a glimpse of him. Suddenly her heart began to flutter and her face felt hot. What a handsome face! And how elegantly he walked! Cecily turned back her head, wanting to have a look at the charming face again—but the professor had already started talking.

Reluctantly, Cecily returned to her notebook, but the lecture had been ruined for her. She mechanically copied the professor's words onto her notebook, yet she had little idea what the words meant. Her mind wandered back to that charming face every minute. What did he look like? She tried hard to remember but couldn't.

The class was finally over. As the students rose and left the classroom, Cecily tried to catch another glimpse of the charming face. But—she did not find him.

* * *

In the days that followed, Cecily saw the charming face a few more times, and, though she was reluctant to admit it to herself, she found secret pleasure in seeing him. The young man seemed to be a pretty jolly student, proficient in all kinds of sports and active in social matters, and Cecily, who was good in none of these, admired him. 

But what's his name? Cecily was curious, but she had not found any way to know yet. She did not like to ask Mary, and she felt too shy to ask the young man himself. Finally she found out during a class break, by taking a surreptitious peek at his desk. The name Ernie was written on his notebook.

Just at this moment she heard a male voice saying "Hello, Cecily King." It was that Ernie, amused at her shyness. Cecily instinctively ran away with a flushed face and crazy hearts, but when she returned to her senses she felt very bad about herself. What would Ernie think of her, running away in such an awkward and impolite manner, almost like a—like a—_thief_! She could never face Ernie again.

Yet she still wanted to see his charming face. One day Mary asked Cecily if she would go to watch a football match with her, and was pleasantly surprised when Cecily's eyes lighted up and said yes. In reality Cecily had no interest in football—but Ernie might be there!

Ernie _was_ on the football team, but on that day he did not play for some reason. Cecily searched and searched and could not find him. Finally she dropped back onto her seat in bitter disappointment. She had always thought football a tedious game, but this was the first time that she found out that even tediousness could actually be unbearable.

* * *

This situation lasted for a week before the amount of such "silly nonsense", as Cecily in her sensible mood would describe them, accumulated to a breaking point. One night, when Cecily was going to say her prayers, a pang of remorse suddenly struck her. She had done a wicked, wicked thing. Is this girl her, Cecily, the model pupil of the Carlisle school, who has been using the time she was supposed to be studying her lessons to think of, of all things, _boys_? And at the very beginning of her life at Queen's too! What would her parents or Mr. Perkins say, had they known this? Cecily shuddered to think. 

And she remembered Willy. Has she forgotten him, just after not seeing him for a mere _week_? Has she? Cecily painfully admitted that she had. Oh, isn't she a terribly fickle girl, to forget him and spend so much time thinking of another boy, one that she knows nothing about? No, this was more than fickleness. She felt positively _unfaithful_.

All of a sudden the charming face became ugly in her mind. She felt humiliated as she had never felt since that horrible incident with Cyrus Brisk. But that time it was at least Cyrus' fault. This time, it was all her own.

Finally she said in a low voice,

"Dear God, please forgive me for everything I had done this week. I promise I'd never look at, or talk to, or think of that Ernie again. Never, unless absolutely necessary."

Which might be a little unjust for the said Ernie, but Cecily felt she _had_ to say it.

* * *

**A/N**: I have been dreadfully busy with schoolwork these days, but thankfully everything is going mostly fine, and besides I have almost figured out the main events in this ff as well as the next one. Read & review, please! 


	4. Left Out

"You are just in-fa-tu-a-ted." Cecily constantly and severely reminded herself with this rather abstract word whenever she thought of Ernie afterwards. "You and Ernie just don't suit each other. Willy suits you better."

With this in mind Cecily managed not to go into any more scrapes when Ernie was around. She mostly just avoided him, and was somewhat cold to him when they met, but her heart still yearned to look at his charming face. She felt uncomfortable over this; she didn't think it right for her not to regard Ernie as a friend, since _he_ was not at fault, but she could not trust herself to. And the first speck of doubt had also come between her and Willy, making her feel guilty.

But eventually the guilt faded, and everything went back—mostly—to normal. Yet when Mary one day jokingly asked her about her opinion on the handsomest boy in the class, she honestly said Ernie, turning back her head to hide her flushed face.

* * *

After a month Cecily had pretty much settled to her daily routine between her boarding house and the campus of Queen's, and it turned out that the lessons did not trouble her overly much. She was pretty interested in mathematics, so algebra and trignometry was a breeze to her. Geometry was a little difficult, but it was even more difficult to most other students. She also liked History and Geography well enough. She liked Latin, for she found its grammar intricate and beautiful, and it _was_ a fascinating thing to be able to understand old, old texts that seemed like incomprehensible gibberish before, but she did not like the others nearly as much. One foreign language was enough to satisfy her curiosity, and anything more was "just turning myself into a dictionary", as she would say. Nevertheless, she had a good memory and plenty of time to study, so she did not find the lectures too hard for her. Writing was the only thing she really wasn't good at, for being a true Ward she was not especially artistic or creative. Her essays did not have logical or structural problems, but the professors always found them dry and dull to read. She wished she could be as good a master of words as Mary was—even Molly's essays were more delightful to read than hers, in spite of the spelling and grammatical errors abound there; but then, God does not bless anyone with all sorts of talents, and she soon became resigned to it. After all, there was no problem of passing. 

And Cecily was quite satisfied with her roommates and classmates as well. It seemed that most of them regarded her as a clever, sweet little girl and was pretty nice to her, and even the less nice ones did not play mean tricks to her, which were done to many of the others, as some of Mary's horror stories suggested. Cecily was terrified and a bit incredulous when she saw that students can sometimes do such malicious things to each other; she even hated Mary a little for telling her such mean gossip. But anyway, Mary had been a victim in one of these incidents, so it was understandable—and Mary _was_ a brick.

Cecily sometimes found it incredible that there could be a girl as omnipotent as Mary seemed to be. She had organized four parties in two months, which included not only her classmates but often many second-year students as well—she had made a flag and rallied for the football team of the class—she had been an active member of the Dramatic Club—she could play violin beautifully—she was said to have beaten a few boys in tennis—and it was even rumored that she had "saved the day" when a boy got her ankle broken in a football match! Cecily felt just like a little insignificant mouse beside her, and her little academic achievements did not seem to mean much when she had been doing nothing but studying, while Mary seemed to get on just as well even if no one knew how she got time for studying. Yet Mary befriended her and often nicely asked her to help prepare the flags and various decorations.

"You are so good at handiwork." she would say in her beautiful voice, and Cecily felt immensely delighted, just as if the Queen had praised her.

* * *

Despite all these kind words, however, there were still times when Cecily felt "left out". In the Carlisle school Cecily was reasonably popular among the girls (and for that matter, boys), and she had had quite a few close chums such as Kitty Marr and Emmeline Frewen, with whom she could share her wildest dreams and deepest secrets. Now, at Queen's, she had yet to find any such kindred spirits. Sometimes, especially in parties, she felt as if she were the ugly little duck in a crowd of swans—while everybody seemed to like her, she was still not regarded as "one of them". Mary she admired, but through some strange instinct she could not truly open her timid little heart to her. Molly often asked her questions about her lessons, which she answered dutifully, but she often doubted whether she had made herself understood. The girls frequently gathered to chat about fashions and dresses and dances, on which she was now hopelessly out of date and had no desire to know more—"I think my Carlisle clothes look just fine." The boys were more interested in sports, and they sometimes dragged girls to play with them, but Cecily was never good at sports. Once Mary dragged her to the Dramatic Club, but while Cecily found some enjoyment in their performances, she felt very inferior in front of these talented boys and girls. Everybody else seemed to have some sort of talent, yet she was only a little bookworm of little use anywhere—and maybe not a good bookworm at that either, thought Cecily unhappily. Then she picked up her Latin book. Whatever happens, she must learn her lessons well and get her license first of all. 

She had also finally seen Mrs. Campbell. A well-dressed lady in her fifties, she looked quite imposing to Cecily. Mary was on very good terms with her, frequently exchanging jokes, but Cecily was a little afraid of her. Her original imagination about landladies had not totally vanished, and she could not help thinking of Mrs. Ray, whom she always feared a bit, when standing in front of Mrs. Campbell.

Once every few weeks Cecily paid some visits to Willy in his boarding house, where they would have a companionable chat, but most of all they talked about their lessons. Willy had decided to finish her courses in one year and proceed immediately to study mechanical engineering in college, and his pressure was enormous. Cecily wanted to see him more often, but Willy must be busy enough as it is, and she dreaded to take any more of his time. Getting a license in two years was hard enough, and one year was almost unthinkable. Why couldn't they always stay together? It was time like this that she wondered if God ever meant for them to stay together. Then she fervently tried to convince herself that it was so. What would happen otherwise? She felt sure that Willy would be broken-hearted if she had deserted him for Ernie or whomever, and she couldn't allow herself to turn out to be so _fickle_!

She did not go home often. Carlisle was quite far from Charlottetown, and even though she had had several spells of homesickness by now, she did not like travelling, especially after her first train ride to Queen's which was still an unpleasant memory for her. And there was the matter of money, too. It must be very hard for Father to allocate such a lot of money for her education, and she must be as economical as possible.


	5. A Dancing Party and a Good Friend

Cecily held a letter in her hand one November evening. It was the seventh letter from home, but the first six were all brief notes, and this was the first one that had some interesting parts in it.

"Life just seemed more _spicy_ back home." commented Cecily, as she giggled when reading Dan's funny descriptions of the many happenings back at home. It was not a trivial job to get serious little Cecily giggling, but Dan did possess this rare talent. Felicity got kissed on the ear by Peter Craig and did _not_ slap him? Peg Bowen's cow _disappeared_ one day and refused to come back to her when Uncle Roger found it six days later? Oh, that's just too weird!

But she sighed impatiently when she read the next part written by her mother, admonishing her not to overexert herself for maybe the one hundredth time. Mother is such a dear, and so sensible most of the time, but why does she always treat her like a baby who can't take care of herself properly? Cecily was not averse to being treated like a little girl, but a baby was a different thing—which was still tons better than being treated as an invalid, as Janet was sometimes wont to do, for example when she obstinately opposed Cecily's studying for Queen's entrance exam. This is unbearable, thought Cecily rather defiantly. To be sure, her health _had_ been less than perfect when she was twelve and thirteen, but isn't that the _past_—isn't she perfectly well now?

She put down her letter and decided to go for a walk outside. It wouldn't be of use to try to study now, when Mother's words had given her an uneasy feeling all over.

* * *

And then she bumped into Mary who had just come in. 

"Cecily, we have another dancing party tonight. I do hope you could come."

Another party! Cecily thought Mary was spending _way_ too much time in parties rather than studying, and she frowned disapprovingly.

"_Please_... this is just your second party here, and believe me two parties in half a year isn't too many. Just come for my sake, okay?"

Anybody might have said that, but Mary said that with _such_ a tone...Cecily felt her heart softening.

"And I've even invited some of the professors here, which you would surely want to know!"

Professors? Though Cecily was doubtful, she began to consider the idea seriously.

"But I must finish my essay. It is due the day after tomorrow and I don't know what to write about yet."

Which was a lame excuse for Mary—Cecily realized that even before Mary answered,

"Why, you'll have plenty of time tomorrow—but if you miss the party there would be...no more."

The way Mary said "no more" was alluring...so alluring that one could hardly imagine how she said that by merely looking at the words. Cecily knew she had been another victim of Mary's persuasion powers. She was really unmatched in this aspect.

"But...I don't dance well."

"You know that won't matter."

"I don't have pretty dresses or shoes either."

"You don't really think you'd mind _that_, do you?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's. Just do some preparations and we'll go after supper. You won't be disappointed, I promise."

Cecily still had her doubts, yet obediently she began to pick a dress. If she was going, she might as well have some faith in Mary's words.

* * *

Cecily managed to keep cheerful on her way to the hall where the party was held, but after spending an hour in the hot, crowded hall, the old "left out" feeling again began to grab her heart. She had had a dance with an unfamiliar boy, at Mary's request, but she _was_ not a good dancer, and in her nervousness she had tripped so many times that her face was burning with embarrassment. After that no one could make her dance any more, and Cecily just wandered around idly. The hall was noisy with everyone talking, but who cares which football team won last night? Or whether some boy kissed some girl in the classroom? Or what kind of high-heeled shoes is more fashionable? The dreadful essay again began to worry her. She tried to think about it, but in so much noise she couldn't even concentrate. Very soon Cecily felt as if she were going to cry. She buried her face in her hands. Crying in public? This wouldn't do, at all. 

But minutes later she forgot why she had been almost crying, for a talk between two professors had caught her attention. One of the professors was her trigonometry teacher, whom she did not like too much, while the other one, a casually-dressed man in his thirties, was a stranger to her—but what were they talking about?

"Inverse trigonometric functions are really a monster to teach! I drilled them the various identities again and again, and where is my reward? Many of these idiots don't even know what the arccosine of minus one is." ranted Professor Williams, Cecily's trigonometry teacher.

"Yes, I can imagine. Arcsines and arccosines can become quite confusing—I found it a bit difficult in my own school days as well." said the other professor thoughtfully, "Especially things like the arccosine of the sine of an angle, and similar variations."

Cecily felt her mind clicking with his. Why, she had found such things dizzying herself—until she had finally got the hang of them. She stood five feet away—she did not dare to introduce herself—and listened.

"I don't see what's difficult in that. Just use the trigonometric identities—the problem with those students is that they just don't bother to remember these simple equations, at least not until the day before the exam."

Cecily was reminded of Professor Williams' lectures, during which he applied one identity after another without ever explaining _why_ they were used in this way. Maybe that was the problem—Cecily thought he had relied entirely too much on these identities.

"I think what had confused me most were the ranges of these functions."

"Aren't they quite easy to remember?" said Professor Williams sarcastically.

"I had never taught trigonometry, but I guess many students can answer correctly when asked literally the ranges of these functions, but they don't remember to use them when solving problems."

Now _that_ was insightful. Cecily felt as if the professor had said what she had wanted to say, but had been unable to express in words.

"Well, I don't know what to say." shrugged Professor Williams, "I suppose students who could pass the entrance exam of Queen's should have more brains than to suppose that what's taught to them are only to be remembered literally."

Things went fine for a while, and Cecily was even beginning to understand Professor Williams—teaching _is_ hard, after all. But Cecily's sympathy vanished in an instant at Professor Williams' last remark.

"All right. I'm going to have a dance with my wife. I don't see why should we teach all these pretty girls so much mathematics. Women are supposed to keep house and raise children and dance, and what's the use of trigonometry to them? I don't like to teach them, and they don't like to learn, but now I'm just forced to spend tons of energy trying to teach them what they are simply not supposed to understand! For none of them do understand the true meanings of these equations, I daresay!"

Then Professor Williams got up and left, not knowing that he had hurt one of his students who had been standing just behind him. For Cecily _was_ deeply hurt, and her face flushed with indignation. People usually regarded Cecily as a meek, mild little mouse who did not seem to have a temper at all, yet she did have her pride and her sensitive points, and Professor Williams' derogatory bruised them badly. Who is he to say that she isn't supposed to learn trigonometry? And how can he say that "_none_ of them do understand the true meanings of these formulas"? Doesn't she understand them well enough herself?

Cecily hated these sweeping statements. She was reminded of the times when Professor Williams bitterly scolded the whole class just because one or two students were late or noisy or because a student failed to answer a simple question. He did have such a terrible habit to make sweeping statements—how they had hurt her! Cecily suddenly realized that this was the main reason why she had not liked him before—more than his less-than-clear explanations in his lectures.

This was too much. Cecily stamped her foot to relieve her hurt feelings—and got a fright when the other professor turned back and saw her.

"What's up, girl?" he asked Cecily questioningly, who was instinctively trying to hide.

* * *

It was quite a while before Cecily recovered from her fright. Had she been caught eavesdropping? 

"No...nothing serious." she stammered.

But the professor gave her an even more questioning frown. This obviously did not satisfy him. She had to tell him her real thoughts, but it was so _hard_. Cecily took a deep breath, summoned up some courage and said nervously,

"I just don't like Professor Williams' way of saying that girls are not supposed to understand trigonometry."

The professor nodded and smiled—but was it a friendly smile, or a sarcastic one? Cecily wasn't sure. But she added,

"And I think if many students don't understand what is taught to them, it is the teacher's—well, maybe the students should not take all the blame." Cecily had wanted to say "it is the teacher's fault", but she remembered that she must be fair—Professor Williams' words hurt her just because it was unfair.

"Teaching isn't as easy as it seems." sighed the professor, "And quite a few of my students _are_ interested only in passing the exams and getting the license and otherwise having fun. They don't really care to truly understand their lessons—as long as they remember enough to get a pass, they don't really want to learn anything more."

"And, " he hesitated a bit and added, "I must say that, in _my_ classes, the girls disappoint me more—lots of them are like that."

"But not all." said Cecily. Her eyes looked beseeching—almost in tears.

"No, not all." the professor smiled again, and this time the smile looked pleasant. "It is a good habit to use accurate language and not to exaggerate, especially for a mathematics teacher."

They sat in silence for a moment, then—"I guess you are one of Professor Williams' students, right?"

"Oh, yes."

"You ought to introduce yourself first." the professor laughed.

Cecily flushed. She knew she had been impolite—but it seemed that she always got caught whenever she did anything remotely bad! But the professor continued, "Mmm...How do _you_ think inverse trigonometric functions should be taught?"

That question caught her unexpected. Cecily wanted to think of a good way, but instead her brain just seemed frozen for a while.

"Well, in other words, how do you understand them yourself?"

Cecily thought she had understood them well, but actually expressing them in words—that turned out to be an entirely different thing. Finally she said briefly,

"I just plotted them."

"Care to explain?"

Cecily explained. She stuttered quite a bit and she feared her explanations might be rather unclear, but thankfully the professor seemed to understand her intentions.

"Yes, this does seem to be a good way to understand that." said the professor slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "So you see, being able to understand something really isn't the same as being able to teach it."

"I see." said Cecily, a bit remorsefully. "It's wrong of me to criticize my teacher when I couldn't have done better myself."

"Oh, that's all right. You know, we teachers are not infallible, and we do appreciate comments from the students—even if you just criticize, we know we had done wrong. You'll understand that when you become a teacher yourself."

Cecily nodded, but not without a bit of hesitation. Offering comments to her teachers sounded quite daunting for timid Cecily—especially disagreeable ones like Professor Williams. These professors always appeared so high up and infallible when she was talking to them, even though she was well aware, when listening to their lectures, that they did make mistakes.

"By the way, you must not mind my previous remark about the girls. You are not offended, are you?"

"No—no—" said Cecily. In truth she was a little hurt to hear that—but she was wise enough not to argue with facts.

"Truly I don't mean to view girls as if they were less clever than the boys. Actually—" he added with a mysterious hint, "my mother is a suffragist."

"Suffragist?" asked Cecily curiously.

And so their topic changed to women's rights. Like most other young country girls, Cecily had had no interest in politics—but the professor's explanations seemed to have changed her opinion in one night.

"You see, everything in the society exists for a reason." concluded the professor, after a nice explanation of various political terms.

Why, even politics can be interesting!

* * *

Cecily had rarely talked so much in one night—and never to a grown-up about serious matters, not just trigonometry and politics, but also physics, ancient Greek history, and even poems. For nearly sixteen years Cecily had lived mostly in the background. Everyone around her loved her, but few took her thoughts seriously, and she had got rather used to that. Yet tonight, sitting beside this professor, she had been showing another side of herself—a girl who, though inexperienced, had begun to have her own thoughts about things, even big, formidable things such as the government. For these three hours, she stayed on the foreground—and if she still felt shy and timid, she definitely did not feel left out anymore. 

Then the clock struck eleven, and the party was coming to an end.

"Three hours! Can time pass as quickly as that?" said Cecily with her incredulous eyes fixed on the clock.

"Good times always pass quickly." smiled the professor. "We did have a nice, sensible talk tonight, didn't we?"

Cecily nodded with a wistful look in her eyes. She did not want to leave—but she had to, for Mary was waiting for her.

"Goodbye!"

* * *

"My feet hurt so. I really hate the man—or woman, whoever—who invented high-heeled shoes. But you seem to be having a good time." said Mary, looking at her little companion's brilliant face. 

"Yes! Thank you so much for organizing it, and for persuading me to come. I have had such an interesting discussion with Professor—oh no, I have forgot to ask him his name. Mary, do you know about the professor that I had been talking with all night?"

"Mmm...I didn't pay attention, but...I think likely he is Professor Morris. Maybe he will teach us, but I don't know for sure."

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Cecily and Mary reached their boarding house. Molly, who had other matters to deal with that night, was already soundly asleep, but Cecily did not want to go to bed just now. She had finally thought of a topic for her essay—no, not just one, but maybe four or five, if she had had that many essays to write!—and she felt compulsed to finish it right now. 

Her pen literally flew on the paper. How strange it was, that her mind was suddenly so full of ideas! And how could she imagine that she, who had always had difficulty in making her writings sufficiently long and detailed, now was finding her essay growing so fast that she even had to cut out some immensely interesting ideas?

Within one hour the essay was finished. Cecily exhaled a long breath as she threw down her pen. Finally something she could be satisfied with.

"Maybe I'm not such a dunce at writing after all." she thought happily—and yawned. It was past one o'clock. Mother must be shocked if she had known that she had stayed up so late—and on the very day her admonitions were received, at that!

Her final thoughts, before falling asleep, was about Professor Morris—or whatever he was called. He seemed to be such a kindred spirit to her. Could she ever see him again?

And she no longer minded Professor Williams much either—isn't he just "an old conservative who has yet to catch up with the changes of society", as the other professor had said? She would just study hard—and show him that he had been wrong.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry for the long delay! Most of this chapter had been ready for quite a while, but filling the few remaining holes turned out to be quite difficult. 


End file.
